


Just Breathe

by S_L_Blake



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Post War, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:34:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_L_Blake/pseuds/S_L_Blake
Summary: *ON HIATUS* A year has passed since the Second Wizarding War and Hermione is trying to move on with her life. But a chance encounter with a former Death Eater may just change everything. Will she be able to find love again?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Rabastan Lestrange
Comments: 34
Kudos: 48





	1. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AshJuillet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshJuillet/gifts).



> Hello everyone, this is a gift fic for Ash Juillet as part of the Gift Giving Extravaganza 2021, so I hope you enjoy it. It was supposed to be a oneshot but the muse thought otherwise and so it has become a WIP. Now while I do have six chapters so far planned, I will be sticking to my schedule and posting every few weeks. Thank you to my alphabeta team Art3misiA and TheOnlyCeeCeeJ for helping me with this. I do not own any rights to Harry Potter; they belong to J.K. Rowling

Hermione had never expected that Diagon Alley would be quiet the day before New Year’s Eve, however it in fact was. There were a few witches and wizards strolling along the cobbled shopping street, some browsing wares in windows while others went in and out of shops. The fact that it was quiet was pleasing to Hermione, it meant that she could take her time once she reached the shop she had in mind. The crisp winter air was refreshing as she made her way down the lane towards Flourish and Blotts, snow crunching underfoot, though she was glad to be wearing her long grey wool coat, along with her matching scarf, gloves and hat.

Harry and Theo were throwing their first party as a couple on New Year’s Eve and she wanted to get them a house warming gift for Grimmauld Place - something simple yet meaningful. She remembered that Flourish and Blotts sold photo albums, which would be perfect. Before she reached the book store, she found herself pausing outside of Eeylops Owl Emporium. A number of black iron cages hung off a rail outside the shop, inside of which were a number of different types of owl: from a snowy owl in one, to a barn owl in another which was watching Hermione intently. Hermione smiled at the bird, taking in its colouring. While its face was white like snow, the rest of its body was a rich tan. She knew Harry and Theo already had Theo’s barn owl, Axel, but there was something about this one that made her think it would be perfect for Harry. Ever since he’d lost Hedwig during the Second Wizarding War, he seemed as though he was missing a part of himself. She knew that if she were to get him this owl, it wouldn’t replace Hedwig but perhaps he could form a new friendship.

Hermione had been so distracted looking at the barn owl, that she hadn’t noticed the owner, Mr Eeylops, watching her from inside the shop, his face beaming with the knowledge that he would have a definite purchase today.

Opening the door to the shop, he stood in the entrance, his hands clasped behind his back. “She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

The voice made Hermione jump, while the barn owl turned her head towards the intrusion and gave an annoyed screech.

“I’m sorry for making you jump, Miss Granger, that wasn’t my intention, I can assure you. I saw you looking at Athena there and felt as though perhaps you might be wanting to purchase her?” the old wizard said placatingly, his coffee-coloured eyes apologetic. “She certainly seems to have taken to you.”

“No need to apologise, I didn’t hear the door open, that’s all. Yes, she certainly is beautiful and I am thinking about buying her - but not for me. Crookshanks my cat would not take kindly, I wouldn’t think,” she said, laughing softly at the thought of Crookshanks finding that she’d brought an owl home as his replacement.

“Ah, so, as a gift then? For - if I were to be so bold as to say - Mr Potter?”

“How did you…”

“I have a way at reading people, Miss Granger. I knew that Mr Potter had lost Hedwig and it was a shame as I knew how close they were, she was part of his family. Athena, here, could be just what he needs now. She’d be a loyal friend, that I can assure you.”

“The name, it’s funny, the lady with the lamp had an owl who she named Athena.”

“Indeed, Miss Nightingale did. That is who I named her after, in fact.”

“But Florence Nightingale was a muggle, wasn’t she?”

“She was a witch, Miss Granger, muggle-born like you, in fact.”

Surprise lit up Hermione’s face at this revelation. “I always thought…”

“Many do, but we learn new things every day, don’t we?”

“Yes, we certainly do.”

“Now then, are there any other owls in Mr Potter’s home?” Eeylops asked as he took the cage down from the hook and brought it inside the shop, placing it on the counter, which he moved behind.

“Yes, Axel…”

“Theodore Nott acquired him, if I’m not mistaken. And how is Axel?”

“In the words of Theo ‘ _a devil with wings’_ , though I never had any issues with him when I’ve been around him, but lately he’s been rather grumpy and attention seeking.”

“It can happen when they don’t have a mate, they may find he calms once he meets Athena.”

At her name, Athena screeched quietly in reply, watching the exchange between the two intently as if she knew what was going on.

Hermione smiled at Athena, then returned her gaze to Eeylops. “How much is she?” she asked, taking her purse from her beaded bag, ready.

“10 Galleons, please, Miss Granger. Will you be taking her today?”

“Would it be alright if I collected her tomorrow afternoon?” Hermione asked, as she handed the old wizard the correct amount of coins, which he put in the till, shutting the drawer with a click.

“Of course, that is not a problem. I shut the shop at four on New Year’s Eve.”

“Then I can come and collect her at three if that’s ok?”

“Perfect, I shall see you tomorrow then. Goodbye, Miss Granger.”

“Goodbye, Mr Eeylops and thank you again.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied, waving as she left the store, shutting the door behind her.

Delighted with the surprise gift for Harry, she walked across the Alley to her original destination: Flourish and Blotts.

As she opened the door and stepped inside, the bell tinkled, alerting the people within that a new customer had entered the shop. Hermione could see a few witches and wizards standing in the aisles, perusing the shelves of their wares which came in a number of different colours, sizes and shapes. Books filled bookcases that reached as high as the ceiling, with rows of smaller bookcases lining the aisles that reached the back of the shop, where there was a reading area. Upstairs, she could see a few people from the small balcony. But for the most part, she was glad she’d be able to look for a photo album without having to push and shove past people, which was the usual way of things when it was busy. She found that the counter where Mr Blotts usually resided was empty. She guessed that if he wasn’t in the stock room, which lay behind the black oak door, then he may be about somewhere putting stock out or helping a customer with a query. As she made her way to the back of the shop, she paused in her journey to pick up a book that struck her fancy, before placing it back where she found it. Once she had found a photo album, she may ask Mr Blotts if there were any books on Florence Nightingale. After what Mr Eeylops had told her, her interest had certainly been piqued, and it wouldn’t do any harm in reading up on what the lady with the lamp had achieved in magical medicine. Perhaps it would come in handy with her own studies, since she was studying to become a Medi-Witch.

She breathed in the unique perfume of the books, from the heady scent of fresh ink on unblemished white pages that had yet to be read, to the sweet musky fragrance that resided in older tomes simply waiting to be plucked off the shelves and explored once more by a new reader. The smell of books was something that she would never tire of. She reached the back of the shop, where the space was wider, and surveyed the stationary wares that were neatly stacked upon a table. It was a grand antique, round and crafted in a butterfly style. It had been varnished in a stunning mahogany which the light danced off. Her chestnut brown eyes strayed to a striking emerald green leather-bound photo album with a gold tool finish, displayed on a stand. Picking it up, her hands smoothed over the cover, it was soft to the touch. Flicking it open gently, she found the inside was full of empty cream pages which seemed to be screaming to be filled with photos.

Knowing it was exactly what she was looking for in a gift for Harry and Theo, that they would use it and be able to look back through it as time passed and reminisce, she smiled, feeling her day had been productive and certainly a success. She was pleased with herself. A day like this was exactly what she had been needing. As she made her way towards the front of the shop, she smiled when she saw Mr Blotts appear, coming down the stairs towards her, an empty crate floating in the air above him.

 _Ah, that explains it, he must have been stocking up,_ Hermione thought.

Setting the crate down behind the counter, Mr Blott’s blue eyes sparkled behind his horn-rimmed glasses. In his late sixties, he was a tall yet thin man who had a gentle countenance about him. “Ah, Miss Granger, I was wondering if you would be making a visit over the holidays, and I see that you have already picked out something. It’s a splendid choice, I must say. It can be personalised if you’re intending for it to be a gift.”

“Yes, I had some gift shopping to do and when I saw that, well… it’s just perfect. I’m glad you said it can be personalised, Mr Blotts, as I was going to ask…”

He held up a hand to stop her before she could finish her sentence. “Miss Granger, you have been coming into this establishment since you were eleven years old, and over that time, you have been a wonderful customer and a joy to help and discuss books with. Please call me Elliot, it only seems fitting.”

Hermione felt her cheeks flush at his kind words and nodded in agreement. “Very well, Elliot, that goes both ways, it’s only fair. I was going to say that I was about to ask if it could be personalised, so, I’m glad it can. However, before I say what I’d like to be on the front cover, I was wondering if you have any books on Florence Nightingale?”

Elliot tapped his chin while he thought then smiled brightly. “Yes, I believe we do.”

Hermione watched Elliot come around the counter and go to the tall bookcase opposite. A few steps away, a couple were talking rather passionately about a book the wizard was holding. Turning her gaze back to Elliot, she watched as he flicked his wand in a quick motion that was done with ease. In answer, a black hardback tome floated down from a shelf that was quite high up and into the man’s waiting hands. The book had gold tinted pages and elegant script on the front cover with a simple, yet well-crafted engraving of an owl that seemed a miniature imitation of Athena, the little owl, perched on the lady’s shoulder.

The title was modest: _The Lady with the Lamp: Florence Nightingale, a History_ by Adelle Griffin.

Placing the book on the counter, Elliot asked, “Will that be all for today, Hermione?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“That will be thirty Galleons then, please.”

Once the money had been exchanged, Elliot handed the book over to Hermione, who placed it in her beaded bag before turning his focus onto the photo album. “Now, what would you like to be on the front cover?”

“I’d like ‘Harry & Theo’ at the top, then underneath ‘the best memories are the ones we make together’.”

Elliot murmured a crafting spell while twirling his wand over the cover, gold script rippled over it with what she had asked for.

“Thank you so much, Elliot, it’s wonderful,” Hermione said, smiling as she placed the album in her beaded bag which she slung over her shoulder.

“It was a pleasure, Hermione, enjoy the rest of your day,” Elliot replied cordially, watching as she left the store.

Hermione never saw the man heading her way as she left Flourish and Blotts until they collided. Her foot slipped on an icy cobblestone and she tripped, her beaded bag slipping off her shoulder and falling to the ground. She would have gone with it had a pair of slender yet strong arms not entwined around her waist to catch and steady her. The heady scent of sandalwood and vanilla flooded her senses, making her calm. The smell seemed familiar, but where had she smelt it before?

 _Silly witch, should have looked where you were going,_ she chided herself, her cheeks burning in embarrassment while her heart raced at the feel of the arms around her. Stepping away and turning, she came face to face with her would-be rescuer.

“You dropped this,” he said, his voice rich like chocolate yet deep in its cadence, as he handed her the beaded bag. 

As she took the bag from him, her eyes fell to the pushed-up sleeve of his overcoat on his left arm, she noticed the familiar sparkle of a glamour, before she could think on that, a charge of electricity shot through her when their hands touched, which stole her breath. She had never felt a connection like that since… _Fred._ Pushing the thoughts of her lost love to the back of her mind so that this stranger would not see her break down, she met his nut-brown gaze and smiled gratefully.

The man was tall with broad shoulders, perhaps six-foot, smartly dressed in an open black overcoat, underneath which was a crisp white shirt and black trousers, matched with a pair of black wingtips. With those dark brown eyes that seemed to smoulder, along with his neatly trimmed beard and short curly hair - the curls themselves resembling short spikes – he was ruggedly handsome. Realising that he was watching her and their hands were still touching, she broke the contact to put the bag back over her shoulder, while he pulled the sleeve of his coat down over his arm.

“Thank you, and I am so sorry, I didn’t see where I was going,” she said, quietly, feeling her cheeks brighten again in embarrassment over the situation.

“I can assure you, there is no need to apologise, really. There’s no harm done,” he reassured, trying to put her at ease as he smiled softly.

As she met his gaze, she felt a wave of familiarity wash over her but she couldn’t place where she had seen him before. It was like there was a block in her mind that wouldn’t budge.

“I’m sorry about this but do we know each other? I have the strangest sense that I’ve met you before.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his dark brown hair, the curls bouncing slightly from the contact. “If I had a Knut for every time someone said that, I’d be a rich man. No, we haven’t met before, I’d remember if we did. Though it’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Granger.” He paused. “Forgive me - where are my manners? My name is Jordan Loriss.” He offered his hand to her again in greeting.

Hermione shook it, feeling the electric jolt again, only lighter this time. There was a hint of surprise in his eyes from the contact, though he didn’t say that he’d felt it too. She’d only just met the man and her heart felt like it would pound out of her chest. She didn’t know him, even though she felt that he was familiar, she couldn’t pinpoint how or why. He was an alluring enigma to her and for all she knew, while he was certainly handsome, he could be a criminal.

 _If that’s the case, then why are you talking to him? You’re comfortable in his company. If you’d had a bad feeling, you would have made your excuses and left by now, but no, you’re still standing here talking to him,_ her conscience chipped in, clearly smug.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jordan. How do you know who I am?”

His hands fell to his sides and he smiled. “Everyone knows who Hermione Granger is, brains of the Golden Trio and the brightest witch of her age.”

His words put her on guard and she responded, curtly. “Let me guess, a reporter from the Prophet? Or another member of the Ministry coming to offer me a job. I’m sorry but I have no interest, whoever you are. Good day.”

She began to walk away, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He fell in step beside her. “I can assure you; I don’t work for the Prophet and while I do work for the Ministry, I haven’t come to offer you a job, I was simply shopping myself and we ran into each other.”

She stopped walking and looked at him, when she saw no trace of a lie in his eyes, she sighed. “I’m sorry, I just…”

“You weren’t sure and were worried you were going to be surprised again? I take it that it happens a lot?”

“Not as much as when the War was first over but now and again yes, it’s why I’m wary.”

He nodded, understanding. “It must be hard.”

“You have no idea,” she said, laughing softly for a moment.

“So, I take it you are here shopping?” he said, motioning to the bulge in her beaded bag.

“Yes, and it was successful, which I’m glad of.”

“Well, that is good, I must be going but it was nice meeting you, Hermione, have a great New Year.”

“It was nice meeting you too, Jordan, same to you,” she responded, watching as he pulled the collar of his coat up before heading north and around the curve of the Alley towards the brick entrance that led into The Leaky Cauldron.

It was only when he was nearly around the corner and out of sight, she replayed their meeting, from the smell of his cologne to the glamour on his arm, but it was how he had said her name that was the final piece to the puzzle that unlocked the memory.

_Her body was curled in against a muscled chest, the smell of the sandalwood and vanilla calming her with ease. The person wasn’t Fred, but a stranger. She was safe. Whoever this person was, he wouldn’t harm her; she just knew it deep down in her very being. The sea air had stirred her from unconsciousness, she wasn’t in the manor anymore - from the taste of salt on her lips and the scent of the sea, they had to be by the coast somewhere. She didn’t dare move her head to try and see where they were going. It was too much effort and the pain had begun to ravage her body again from the aftereffects of Bellatrix’s curses. She whimpered in pain and his voice fell around her like a soothing balm._

_“Shhh, we’re nearly there, Hermione, you’re safe now, no more harm will come to you,” the deep voice was comforting._

_Knowing she was going to fall back into unconsciousness again, she made an attempt to look up at her saviour, at the man she would thank. Nut brown eyes gazed down at her from a clean-shaven face._

_Rabastan Lestrange._


	2. Questions & Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone that has reviewed, and also for the kudos. It means a lot and I’m so glad everyone liked the first chapter. Thank you to my alphabeta team Art3misiA and TheOnlyCeeCeeJ for helping me with this. I do not own any rights to Harry Potter; they belong to J.K. Rowling.

She stood frozen to the spot outside one of the few shops that was closed over the holidays. Cold realisation swept through her body like an avalanche as she came to the conclusion that the man she had been talking to, the man she had felt comfortable around was none other than Rabastan Lestrange, a Death Eater! Oh, he’d fooled her well, but now that she knew who he was, she needed answers. Why had he taken her from the manor? Why was he here and not in Azkaban? And why the hell did he make her feel things she hadn’t since Fred?

She found herself running the way he had gone, but by the time she reached the brick entrance, apart from a few people coming out of the shops, he was nowhere to be seen. For all she knew he could have disapparated once he was out of sight. She studied her surroundings again until she noticed a shadow moving in the archway that led to Knockturn Alley. She moved closer but before she could draw her wand, a hand shot out from the darkness and pulled her up against him. This close, she could feel every inch of him through his clothes, chiding herself for the tingling sensation between her thighs. She was turned on, when she shouldn’t be, not from him, not like this.

“I wondered how long it would take you to put two and two together, as to who I was?” There was no malice in his words, just simple curiosity as he looked at her. She pulled back from him, taking out her wand but he shook his head.

“No one can see or hear us, spells came up the moment I pulled you in here with me, it’s only temporary, though.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? You should be in Azkaban! Why were you released? Have you been following me?”

“You have a lot of questions and you’re right to, Hermione, I will explain everything to you but not here.”

“Then where?”

“Wherever you feel most comfortable.”

Hermione knew she had two options: they could either speak in a room in The Leaky Cauldron out of the way of nosy patrons, or they could go somewhere open like a park, where it would be easy for her to escape should the need arise. But what got her was the fact that Rabastan said she could choose the location; she made the rules here and he would adhere to them. As much as she didn’t trust him, that feeling was there again, that he wouldn’t hurt her. She thought of the saying that ‘the leopard does not change his spots’ and that’s how she had always felt about Death Eaters, that they could never be good. But being in Rabastan’s company, he hadn’t hurt her and it made her wonder if maybe he was the exception, only time would tell.

“The Leaky Cauldron, there are rooms upstairs we can talk uninterrupted there.”

“Very well, lead the way,” he replied, motioning with his hand for her to leave the archway. She did and once she had tapped the code over the bricks, opening the entrance to the yard of the pub, she pocketed her wand, pulling her jumper over it.

When they entered the back entrance to the pub, they walked down a short hallway and into the main room. Where once it had been dark and shabby - a fact she had supposed the patrons had liked - under Hannah’s new ownership, it was bright and clean. She had taken over The Leaky Cauldron after Tom had decided to retire at the start of the year. Tables were spaced around the room, with bar stools next to the bar, a few already occupied, nursing glasses of alcohol. Along the back wall were booths with bespoke Chesterfield sofa seating in a smoky grey colour. Each booth was separated by dark brown wooden panel dividers to give each cubicle’s occupants privacy should they want it.

Hermione was glad to see that even from Hannah’s changes to the interior, the clientele hadn’t changed. It was quiet the day before New Year’s Eve, with a few wizards sitting at the bar, and a pair of older witches at one of the tables. Swirls of smoke rose in the air as they smoked and chatted amicably.

“Hello, Hermione, whatever are you doing here…” Hannah said, drying her hands on a towel behind the bar, trailing off when her baby blue eyes fell upon the man stood next to Hermione. “Who’s your friend?”

“Hi, Hannah, this is my colleague, Jordan Loriss. He works at St Mungo’s but he’s been away for a conference,” Hermione began, her heart beat wildly as she told the lie; she hoped Hannah wouldn’t sense anything unusual or suspicious about her companion.

“I’ve been in the US for a conference on combining magical healing with muggle practices,” Rabastan added with ease. “We bumped into each other just as Hermione was leaving Flourish and Blotts, when she found out what the conference had been about, well…” he trailed off, smiling charmingly.

“I just had so many questions, so we thought we’d come here for a drink and catch up. Any chance we could use a room upstairs?” Hermione asked, her eyes conveying to Hannah that it was for privacy.

Hannah smiled pleasantly, though from the way she was looking between the two, it was clear that she was intrigued. “Of course, room twelve is empty right now, so just go in, it’s the second door to your right on the left side. What drinks would you like sending up?”

“A Butterbeer for me and…” Hermione turned to look at her companion.

“A Firewhiskey will do,” Rabastan answered.

“They’ll be in the room ready for you.”

“Thanks, Hannah,” Hermione said, going into her bag to get the money for the drinks when a hand on her arm stopped her. She watched as Rabastan asked, “How much?”

“One Galleon and two Sickles.”

Rabastan went into his trouser pocket and, checking he had the right amount in his hand, gave the coins to Hannah.

Hermione couldn’t believe he’d just done that and yet a part of her warmed to him, even when she shouldn’t have. It seemed he was indeed a gentleman.

“After your catch up and if you’re free, do you fancy having some tea here and a catch up of our own, it feels like forever since we’ve talked, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled, knowing that Hannah wasn’t wrong, their lives had become busy as of late. “Yes, I’d like that. I’ll meet you back down here.”

Hermione and Rabastan made their way up the handsomely carved maple staircase. When they were out of sight and earshot, Hermione said, rather irritated, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Perhaps, not, but I was raised to be a gentleman around women, some things are just ingrained.”

A scathing remark came to her tongue but she bit it back, it would do no good to raise his ire when she needed answers. Especially as he hadn’t said or done anything nasty to her.

Hermione opened the door and stepped inside the room, it was rather charming yet spacious: the walls had been painted in warm peach tones, with smooth redwood flooring. There was a small table by the window with a view of Muggle London, and two chairs. Upon the table stood their glasses, one tumbler was filled with the familiar amber liquid that was Firewhiskey, while the mug had the familiar toffee coloured liquid of Butterbeer with frothy foam at the top.

A fire burned steadily in the hearth, giving the room a comfortable temperature. Opposite it was a neatly made bed. She stripped off her coat, hat, gloves and scarf, hanging them on a bronze hook on the back of the door. That done, she sat at the table, dropping her beaded bag on the floor by the side of her chair, she looked at Rabastan expectantly. He did the same with his own coat before taking the seat opposite her.

“You lied to your friend just now, I’m curious as to why. I know you picked the pub for safety but why lie as to who I am?”

“Firstly, because although it was quiet, you can never be sure who is listening in. And second, she’s engaged to Neville and I didn’t think it fair to admit that I was talking to someone who tortured his parents,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, derision in her chestnut brown eyes. “It wouldn’t look very good if she knew I was consorting with you, now would it?”

Their eyes held for a moment as he took in what she had said before taking a sip from the amber liquid, feeling the familiar lick of fire course down his throat before setting the tumbler back onto the table.

“You’re right,” he said, what seemed like regret shimmering in his eyes. “So, what do you want to know first?”

“Were you following me, was the bumping into each other coincidence?”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling while the smile that graced his face was genuine. “You do realise that’s two questions, not one?”

“Are you going to answer or not?” she retorted, ignoring the way the look he was giving her made her feel, like she could let down her guard. It was the same way Fred would look at her at times even when he’d annoyed her, that playful smile and the sparkle in his eyes. A part of her felt as though she was cheating on Fred by having these strange feelings for Rabastan who she hardly knew and should loathe, yet here she was talking to him.

Rabastan saw the pain that had flared in her chestnut brown eyes for a moment before disappearing. He’d noticed it earlier too when they had been close together in the shadows of the archway but then it hadn’t been in her eyes, but her body; she’d tensed. It was as if she was warring with herself over something he couldn’t comprehend. He knew he could ask but he wouldn’t, it wasn’t his place.

“The answer to both of the questions is no. I was in Diagon Alley because I had been to Gringotts and was going to see a contact afterwards, but that changed when I bumped into you. I never thought I would see you again, if I’m being honest. The only reason I was in the archway was because I needed some time to process bumping into you and the… the connection we had. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it when we touched,” he said, looking at her, trying to discern her emotions.

“I did feel it, yes, but…” she sighed, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. “I hardly know you. Besides, I… I’m not looking for anything romantic right now.”

“The man you think I am, the Death Eater,” he said, spitting out the last two words as if he had something foul on his tongue. “That isn’t who I am, that part of my life I left a long time ago. I’m just Rabastan Lestrange, now, a man who is trying to make a new life for himself, a _normal_ life. I won’t pry into why you aren’t looking for a relationship, but once you hear what I have to say, perhaps we could be friends or at least civil acquaintances?”

The sheer honesty in his words continued to surprise her, it was obvious he was determined to prove himself to her. She knew the fact she’d come here to get answers was part of it, but maybe the other part was that she wanted to give him a chance, perhaps to find some closure for herself.

“Alright, I’ll think about it. So, when were you released?”

“I was never released because I was never put into Azkaban after the war was over. Nothing was put in the papers because they wanted it to be kept quiet. A Death Eater not being imprisoned for his crimes wouldn’t look very good on the Ministry’s standards.”

“Why?” It wasn’t a question as to why the Ministry kept it out of the news but more of why he had never been imprisoned in the first place, there had to be a reason and she wanted to know.

He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of where to begin, but deep down he knew there was only one place and _Merlin_ knew the memory still haunted him. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain. “There’s three years between my brother and I, and we were always as thick as thieves even when we were children. With him being the eldest, I looked up to him, wanted to be like him. Rod was the reason I joined the Death Eaters at seventeen, young and foolhardy. I’d never been tasked with anything major, never harmed anyone until the attack on the Longbottoms.” He paused and took a long drink of the Firewhiskey, his hand trembling slightly. Hermione could see that it affected him.

“You don’t have to tell me about this…”

“I do, for you to understand. I’m alright, Hermione, it just, it’s a memory that has haunted me for a very long time. It was Bellatrix and Barty’s idea to find and interrogate them. They were high ranking Aurors and if anyone would know where Voldemort was, they would. My task was to find the couple and I did. I thought that it would be a simple interrogation, they’d slap him about a bit and try and get information, at the most perhaps threaten him, I never realised the lengths they would go to, the torture. I tried to reason with them but my brother said it was the right thing, that if I wasn’t with them, if I wasn’t willing to get my hands dirty then I was against them. They told me to bring Alice in so I went, she’d heard her husband’s screams and begged me to let her go, that they had a son. The fear and pleading in her eyes broke something inside me and I began to undo her bindings but I was caught out and punished. My own brother crucio’d me for the disobedience and then that crazy psychopath imperio’d me, made me torture Alice too so that I’d learn my lesson and be as accountable as them.”

Hermione’s hand was over her mouth, sadness and shock clear in her brown eyes that glistened with unshed tears. She’d heard of the torture but not in too much detail. “So, at your trial…”

“I pleaded with them, I told them what had happened but they didn’t believe me, I was a Death Eater after all, and a Lestrange. That time in Azkaban, I became angry not just at myself but at my brother and the others for what they had done, I needed to make it right somehow. I knew if I started writing Neville letters they would never be read; he wouldn’t believe me. So, I made an arrangement with the bank to send anonymous deposits for the care of his parents at St Mungo’s. As far as he and his grandmother are aware, the money is from an old friend of his parents that worked with them when they were Aurors.”

“Rabastan, that’s… I never expected it. Have you ever…”

“Been to visit them? Yes, I go and sit with Alice from time to time, it can’t change what happened but it’s my way of making recompense somehow. I’m simply the old friend that drops by to visit,” Rabastan said, seeing the clear surprise and what appeared to be understanding, at least that’s what he thought he saw in her eyes. Seeing that she wasn’t about to judge him for it or admonish him, he continued where he’d left off. “When we broke out from Azkaban, I decided to run. I wanted nothing to do with them anymore, but Severus was the one sent to get me, only he made me an offer. He explained that he was a double agent, that he was working for the Order, that I could do the same if I wanted to. It meant betraying my brother but by then he wasn’t my brother, not anymore, simply another person I shared my last name with. He was so indoctrinated into what they were doing, that it was for ‘ _the_ _greater good’_ , I knew he wasn’t going to change, so I agreed. At the battle in the Ministry, that was when I saw you for the first time and I don’t know why but I felt an urge to protect you, to watch over you. During the fight in the Death Chamber, I’d watched Dolohov after what he’d already done to you in the office, I knew you were in pain but you fought well. He had a look in his eye, and feeling like he was going to try and curse you again, I decided to act. I was duelling Kingsley and was aiming my wand at the Auror but twisted and sent a leg locking spell at Dolohov. Added with the full body bind curse, he was knocked unconscious.”

“You saved my life and I never knew,” she said, her eyes wide. “Did he ever find out that it was you?”

“No, because of the melee and all the curses flying about, he never knew who had attacked him, it was the best way.”

“So, what happened at the Manor, why couldn’t I remember what had happened until I saw you earlier? I always thought I escaped with the others.”

“When you were brought to the Manor and tortured, it was like Alice all over again, but the thing was I knew what they had planned. When Bellatrix was done with you, you were going to be passed between Dolohov and Fenrir, they both had designs on you and I couldn’t let that happen. I suggested you be put in a room upstairs and once you came around again, they could decide. They agreed but weren’t happy about the decision. Only, they never got the chance to touch you. When Dobby made his rescue attempt from all the noise downstairs, I grabbed you and disapparated from the place, taking you to the coast, a short walk away from Shell Cottage, where I knew the Order would be. I cast the memory spell, altering it to protect you. You’d suffered enough at the time that your mind wouldn’t have comprehended who I was. It was better that you not know and hate me than know the truth but never know why, at least until today.”

Hermione took a drink of the Butterbeer, the delicate sweetness was certainly welcomed as she tried to process what he’d told her so far. It was a lot to take in and yet, through it all, she knew he was telling her the truth. “I… thank you, Rabastan, for what you did,” she said quietly, meeting his gaze.

He smiled softly at her. “You’re welcome, Hermione.”

“Did Rodolphus ever find out?”

Rabastan nodded. “Once I’d left the Manor with you, they knew where my true allegiances lay and when it came to the battle at Hogwarts, we fought and he left me with a scar to remember him by.” He rolled up his left shirt sleeve and with his wand cast _Revelio._ The glamour that had been in place fell away to reveal a red splotched blemish over where his Dark Mark had once been. Now the skin was red, tight and shiny with a blister already forming. “He said I didn’t deserve the Dark Mark so burned it from me, leaving me with that mess.”

While Rabastan didn’t show any signs of being in pain, perhaps from being good at hiding it, Hermione knew that a burn scar like that would take longer to heal when done by magic. “Is there muscle damage? The blister…”

He nodded as she studied the wound. “It gets stiff sometimes but I just get on with it. As for the blister, well that’s from any agitation or warmth, even the smallest bit of sunlight.”

Taking her wand out from her jeans pocket she cast _Refrigesco_ over the marred skin, noting how relief flooded his body and face as the cooling charm worked. Hermione cast a swift _Episkey_ over the blister, healing it.

“Thank you,” he said, grateful for her help.

“You’re welcome. You know, I think with physiotherapy and cooling charms to relieve the pain and stiffness, the affected muscles may start to heal. It might take time but I think you could benefit from it. As for the blistering, that is something I’m going to have to look into.”

“I take it physiotherapy is a muggle form of medicine?”

“Yes, it can be used to help relieve muscle pain through exercise and massage. It’s not a quick fix by any means, it takes time, but it does work. I’ve been advocating that St Mungo’s should use it in rehabilitation for some injuries. You would be a good candidate for it, I think.”

“If you think you owe me a debt for saving your life, Hermione, you don’t.”

“I’m studying at St Mungo’s to become a Healer and while I still have two more years before I qualify and choose a speciality, I didn’t think I’d know what I wanted to practice, at least until now. I want to help you, Rabastan, if not to repay your debt, then as an act of kindness, as a friend. I’d have to speak to my mentor there when I return after New Year but it could be a project to see if it works.”

“Were you like this at school? This passionate?”

“Yes,” she replied, blushing.

“It’s a good quality to have, Hermione, so don’t change. Speak to your mentor and if they think it’s possible then I’ll come to St Mungo’s.”

She smiled at him, feeling comfortable once more to be around him, she noted that he didn’t glamour his arm, simply pulled his sleeve down over the scar. “The cooling charm will last for an hour or two, if you feel like it’s wearing off just recast it. _Episkey_ will work well enough for now on the blistering until I can find a better way to stop it happening at all.”

“I will use both of them as and when I need to, it’s just nice to have some relief.”

“I’m glad I could help. Do you mind me asking what happened once the war was over?”

He settled back against his chair, relaxed. “I was arrested as a precaution at first and questioned like the Malfoys. Only, Kingsley asked me whether I’d be willing to work with the Auror Department as an informant to help catch those Death Eaters that had escaped. I agreed and that’s what I do. I have contacts in different places, even Knockturn Alley, who give me information when I need it. I was going to run down a lead this afternoon but I can see my associate later. I realise it may seem cloak and dagger…”

“I’m best friends with Harry, Rabastan, so while I won’t pry, I do know that the three still evading capture are: Yaxley, Rowle and Dolohov. You know, there is a muggle proverb that says ‘ _the leopard does not change his spots’_ , basically that a person cannot change but in your case you have. You’ve changed your life and you’re a good person, I can see it. I know I said it before but thank you for saving me.”

“You’re welcome, Hermione. So, now that you know the truth does it make us acquaintances or friends?”

“I think I like the friends option.”

“So, do I,” he replied. “So, are you just going to your friend’s party for New Year’s?”

“Yes, it’s some normality for us all even if it’s been a year since the war, it doesn’t feel like it some days.” There was a hint of sadness in her voice as she said that. “I’d say you could come along but…”

“It wouldn’t be a good idea, I don’t think Potter would take kindly to me being there or Weasley as I take it, he’ll be there too, right?”

“Yes,” she sighed, not seeming happy at the knowledge.

“I don’t mean to pry, but it seems like you don’t want to go, maybe I’m wrong, it’s just you don’t seem very enthusiastic about it. I’m sorry if I’ve overstepped…”

She batted his words away and shook her head. “If I’m being honest? I don’t want to go; I’m only going for Harry and Theo’s sake. Ron and I haven’t had the best friendship since the end of the war.” She couldn’t believe she was opening up to him and yet it felt freeing to do so, knowing he would not judge. “I… I was in a relationship with his older brother and when he died…” she felt the tears fall down her cheeks as she trailed off, her lips trembling.

When he reached out to touch her hand gently, it was the buoy she needed to stop her breaking entirely. She squeezed his hand in thanks and took the handkerchief he offered, dabbing at her eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologise, you’re still grieving someone you loved. It’s natural.”

“I’m upset as I had the same electric connection with Fred and I never thought I’d feel that again, but then I did with you and it made me feel like I was betraying his memory, betraying him, that’s why I said I’m not looking for anything romantic.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Hermione, it’s alright. I’m happy to just be your friend, I’ll never push or judge you.”

“Thank you, Rabastan, for understanding, for listening.”

“You’re welcome. Look, I know today has moved quickly and perhaps in ways we both didn’t expect, but if you don’t want to go to the party tomorrow night, then don’t. I was going to say I’m going to be having something to eat in my local The Bull and Last, it’s a muggle pub but the food is really good. Then I was going to watch the firework display at Parliament Hill, you’re more than welcome to join me if you want a quieter evening.”

“I haven’t been to the Hill in a long time, I used to go with my parents as a child for picnics in the summer, it has a lovely view of the Thames,” she said wistfully. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course, if you do want to then I’ll be in the pub at around seven tomorrow night. If I don’t see you then I hope you have a great New Year. I’m sure you’ll be in touch about St Mungo’s?”

“Alright and yes, I will,” she replied, watching as he finished the tumbler of Firewhiskey and stood to put his overcoat on. “Good luck with seeing your contact.”

“Thank you, Hermione, I think I might need it. Enjoy the rest of your day,” he said, smiling at her before disapparating.

Hermione finished her own drink, noting the darkness outside, she pulled her sleeve back to look at her gold watch noting that it was almost six in the evening. Pulling on her coat, she placed her hat, scarf and gloves in her bag before slinging it over her shoulder and left the room. Exiting the hallway, she began her descent down the wooden staircase and surveyed the main room of the pub, while the witches that had been talking and smoking had departed, the pub had filled up and she could see the reason why. Behind the bar, a grey apron around his waist, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up was Tom Abbott, Hannah’s grandfather and the previous owner of the Leaky Cauldron. Retirement certainly suited him. He had the familiar twinkle in his warm hazel eyes as he chatted animatedly with the patrons, who were clearly happy to see him.

She couldn’t help but smile when he said over the din of voices and clinking of glass, “Hello there, Miss Granger, you look well.”

“Thank you, Tom, so do you.”

“If you’re looking for Hannah, she’s in the parlour room, go through the door there and it’s the first on your left.”

She went through the door marked staff on the right side of the bar and found herself in a wide corridor, with the wonderful smells wafting up to her from the end of the hallway, making her mouth water. She figured that was where the kitchen was. Opening the door to the parlour, she took in the large, beautifully decorated room. The walls had been painted a deep gold and the floor had been covered in a thick red twist carpet that was soft and gave the room a homely feel. In front of the hearth was a thickly set oak coffee table with a sofa and two armchairs. By the large bay window was a long table which was currently occupied by Hannah who was gently rubbing her rounded tummy, which Hermione hadn’t noticed earlier but now it was clear.

A radiant smile broke out on Hannah’s face as she looked up to see her friend. Standing, she covered the distance between them and enveloped Hermione in a warm hug. “I’m glad you decided to stay, we haven’t had a good catch up in what feels like forever.”

“I know and I can see congratulations are in order, too,” Hermione replied, motioning to the neat bump covered by the long-sleeved light blue top her friend was wearing, with dark blue jeans and a pair of white slip-on shoes which were for comfort rather than practicality.

“Thank you, Hermione. We found out over Christmas, I’m twelve weeks and the little one is due in June. We’re both over the moon, it wasn’t planned it just happened.”

“You’re both going to make wonderful parents, Hannah. Where is Neville by the way?”

“He had a meeting with Professor Sprout and Professor Snape to further develop a potion he’s working on to heal his parents mentally.”

At the mention of the Longbottoms, Hermione remembered what Rabastan had told her about sitting with Alice but didn’t mention it to Hannah. She took her coat off, laying it over the arm of the chair and put her beaded bag on the floor before sitting on the sofa with Hannah. “Has he had a breakthrough?”

“In a way, yes. He went to visit on Christmas Eve and when he sat down with his mum, she looked at him and burst into tears before hugging him. After all this time, she recognised him, the healers there aren’t sure what brought her out of her mild catatonic state or how long it’ll last but he has his mum back. The healers did say that a man had been sitting with her now and then, said he was an old friend of theirs from when they worked as Aurors. Neville doesn’t want to ask her yet; he doesn’t want to overload her mind to the point she recedes to how she was. But he is curious as to who the friend is.”

Hermione’s mind flew to Rabastan again. Whatever he’d said, or maybe even just the sitting with Alice, had done something, in such a small way, he’d helped. She wanted to tell Hannah but swallowed the words, it wasn’t the right time and she wasn’t the right person to admit who Jordan really was. She knew that it would cause more trouble instead of solace. No, she would wait and see how things progressed.

“What about the old Order photographs, has he looked through any of them yet or spoken to Snape or even McGonagall?”

“No, not yet, but those might be good ideas. He’s just so happy that he’s able to talk to her after so long,” Hannah said, wiping a stray tear away while Hermione felt herself fill up with emotion.

“Anyway, enough about us, what about you? How is the course going at St Mungo’s? You’ve certainly kept Jordan a secret, he seems very nice,” Hannah said, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at the latter comment.

“I’m only a few months into my first year, but honestly? It’s so interesting, I love it already and there is so much to learn. As for Jordan, we are colleagues, nothing more than friends, Hannah.”

“If you say so, but I definitely felt chemistry between the two of you, all I’m saying,” Hannah said, an air of playfulness in her tone.

Hermione groaned but couldn’t help laughing. “You know, I think you’ve been hanging around with Theo for too long.”

Hannah giggled. “Well, he does work here as the chef, though he left when my grandparents came, or should I say was shooed out of the kitchen by Gran. Whenever they visit, well, she likes to cook. They only popped in for a visit today and when they heard that I was going to have a catch up with you, well, they took over. Plus, they’re going to be watching the pub tomorrow evening while me and Neville go to Harry and Theo’s party. Grandad insisted.”

“He looks well.”

“I think retirement worked wonders, they have time for themselves now and they both love the cottage; Grandad has his allotment and Gran has her cooking and tending to the flowers. They have plenty to do, but whenever they visit, it’s as if they never left. I think for even a short time, being behind the bar again and Gran cooking helps, too. Speaking of which, what would you like for tea, you must be starving now.”

As if on cue, Hermione’s stomach rumbled in agreement and she flushed a little embarrassed. “Maybe steak pie with veg, but I’m paying.”

“Oh no, you most certainly are not. It’s on the house, what about for pudding and a drink?”

“You’re spoiling me, Hannah,” Hermione said in mock protest.

“You’re one of my best friends, Hermione, I’m allowed. Now pudding and drink?”

“Sticky toffee pudding and a Butterbeer.”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Also, good choice by the way. I’m having the same dessert but a jacket potato with salad for my main and an orange juice for my drink,” Hannah said, her baby blue eyes alight with happiness. She cast her Patronus – a grey squirrel - and after relaying the message, it scampered out of the room, passing through the wall to head to its destinations.

Their drinks appeared on the coffee table a few minutes later out of thin air. Hermione took a sip of the butterbeer, enjoying the sweetness of the golden liquid.

“So, are you going to Harry and Theo’s tomorrow night?” Hannah asked, curiosity alight in her eyes.

“I was thinking about it, but I’ve decided to just see them tomorrow afternoon and give them their presents, then I might spend New Year’s Eve with my parents,” Hermione said, the lie flying from her tongue with ease, even as the guilt at doing so gnawed at her but she couldn’t tell Hannah the truth, that she was thinking about spending it with an ex-Death Eater. Though what surprised her the most was the fact that she’d already decided that she wasn’t going to the party and yet, deep down, she knew that she would have come to that choice sooner or later.

Hannah smiled sadly and touched Hermione’s hand in understanding. “I won’t lie and say it’s a shame we won’t see you there but I get it. It’s because of Ron isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded; she hadn’t spoken to him since George’s birthday party in April earlier that year but that was his fault. “Yes, I haven’t spoken to him since the party at the Burrow and to be honest, I don’t want to.” She was grateful that Hannah didn’t ask her about it, she knew she’d found out what had happened from Theo.

Anger and sadness flooded through her just at the thought of it, her mind unbidden went back to that day.

_She’d been sitting outside talking to George who’d come out for some air, reminiscing about Fred, when Ron had stumbled over into a chair at the table, liquid from his glass splashing onto the white linen of the table cloth, marring it._

_“You should have never been with Fred, ‘Mione. It should have been us – me and you together. It still could be,” he said, his words slurred as he reached out to touch her hand. She pulled away, her chestnut brown eyes burning with a mixture of shock, hurt and anger that he could be so selfish as to say that today of all days._

_The next thing she knew, Ron was off the chair and on the grass, blood dripping from his bust nose and cut lip, George standing over him, his fists shaking at his sides. “You selfish little prat, Ron! Fred understood Hermione more than you ever did, he loved her and if anyone was meant to be with her, it was Fred! Get out of here before I do something else I’ll regret.”_

_By the time the rest of the family had come out at the sound of the commotion, Ron had left the party._

_“You didn’t have to…”_

_“Yes, I did, ‘Mione, he had it coming and if Fred had been here, he would have done the same.”_

_Hermione hugged George, knowing he was right. “Thank you.”_

“Has he been in touch since that day?” Hannah asked, breaking Hermione away from the memory.

“He tried to speak to me at the memorial and the odd times via a fire call but I’ve blocked him. I still talk to George most weeks, he’s like another brother to me. As for the rest of the family, I keep in touch now and then, though Molly does wish I’d speak to Ron but she knows why I won’t.”

Before Hannah could reply, Dobby appeared to place their meals on the long table.

Hermione smiled, surprised to see the free house-elf here. “Hello, Dobby.”

Dobby’s large green eyes lit up at the sight of Hermione. “Hello, Hermione,” he said, his pointed ears lifting in happiness as he walked over and jumped up on the sofa to give Hermione a hug. After the end of the war, and as a free elf, Dobby had decided to live with Harry, Theo, Kreacher and Axel at Grimmauld Place. He had a room of his own, an income from Harry and Theo and clothes that fit him that he was comfortable in. She noticed that he was wearing the jumper she’d made him for Christmas, along with a pair of trousers, socks and slippers. He had filled out, too, no longer skin and bones. The fact that he called her by her first name was another improvement, it had taken him some time to grow accustomed to calling Harry and Theo by their first names but after a while, he’d become used to it.

“What are you doing here?”

“I help Theo with serving the food whenever he has a shift. While he is at home now, I decided I could help Mrs Abbott.”

 _Of course, he still likes to keep busy,_ Hermione thought to herself.

“That’s nice of you, Dobby. When you return home tonight, could you let Harry and Theo know I’ll be coming to visit tomorrow around four. And I’ll have a present each for you and Kreacher, too.”

The elf’s eyes lit up with glee. “Thank you, Hermione. I’ll tell them. I’ll be back with your puddings later.” With that, he disappeared with a _pop!_

“He gets free meals here and a little extra income, too. He is so happy all the time now, though he does have a tendency to clean the rooms even when I tell him that he doesn’t have to, but he has breaks while he’s here as well.”

“I’m just glad that he’s happy,” Hermione replied, smiling.

They left the comfort of the sofa and the warmth of the fire to sit at the table and dig into their meals. After cutting up a piece of the steak along with some pastry and popping it into her mouth, Hermione couldn’t help but moan in contentment as she chewed and swallowed.

“Good, huh?” Hannah said, a knowing smile lighting up her face as she took a bite of fluffy potato with golden cheese melted on top.

“You know I love Theo’s cooking but I won’t lie, I’ve missed your Gran’s steak pie, Hannah. It’s like a little piece of heaven.”

“I know and don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Theo always asks her for some of her recipes but she won’t give them away.”

Hermione laughed at the picture of Theo in her mind pleading with Mrs Abbott. “He’s good in his own right.”

“That’s what I tell him, as does Gran. If anything, I think he wants to know her method just so he can learn more.”

“That makes sense.”

As they ate their meals, Hannah asked, “So, if you’re not going to the party tomorrow night, can I at least ask what you got the boys?”

Hermione smiled nodding. “I’ve bought Harry a barn owl called Athena. I’m picking her up from Eeylops tomorrow. As for their house warming gift…” she placed her knife and fork on the now empty plate and took out her wand. “ _Accio_ photo album.”

The gift escaped from her beaded bag and floated into her awaiting hands. She turned it around so that Hannah could see.

“Hermione, it’s wonderful. I’m sure they’ll love that and Harry with the owl,” Hannah said.

“I hope so, too,” Hermione replied, sending the book back into the bag.

When Hannah had finished with her meal, the plates vanished and Dobby appeared with the desserts. After thanking him, they both took their time with their puddings. The toffee sauce oozed over the top and down the sides of the moist sponge cake into the sea of custard that surrounded it like it was a lone island in a vast ocean. Hermione couldn’t help but moan again at the sweet yet rich taste of it, how the sponge seemed to melt on her tongue.

She wasn’t the only one enjoying the dessert if the look of utter bliss on Hannah’s face was anything to go by.

“So, what are you and Neville taking as a gift?” Hermione inquired as she spooned another helping of toffee covered sponge with a bit of custard into her mouth.

“Well, Neville decided on a peace lily because it’s simple to care for and has natural air cleaning properties. I picked up a wizarding chess set given I know they both enjoy playing.”

Hermione smiled. “Yes, they do. I think they’ll adore both gifts, Hannah, I really do.”

Hermione felt guilty but she had to leave a quarter of the pudding, she was full.

Hannah could see the guilt reflected in her friend’s eyes and waved her away. “Gran won’t take offence so don’t worry. Her meals always are filling.”

“Yes, but they are worth it. So, when are you next at St Mungo’s?” Hermione asked as they returned to the sofa to settle the food.

“In three weeks to see how things are and to book the ultrasound scan, that’s what I’m looking forward to most.”

“Are you going to ask when the time comes to see what the baby is?”

Hannah shook her head with an air of certainty. “No, we’ve decided that because the pregnancy was a surprise, we’ll wait until the day the little one arrives, though I don’t know why but I feel like it might be a girl,” she said, hope and longing sparking in her baby blue eyes.

“Mother’s intuition perhaps?”

“Yes, maybe, but we’ll see. Either way, I love the little one already.”

“That’s all that matters,” Hermione said, smiling, her eyes misting over at the thought that she’d never have that with Fred – a family. She chided herself for feeling like that while she was in Hannah’s company and locked the thought up in the back of her mind, so that she wouldn’t think about it any longer.

They talked amicably about other things until Hermione knew it was time she went home. After popping into the kitchen to thank Hannah’s gran, Maggie, for the wonderful food, she returned to the parlour to put on her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. She hugged Hannah. She hadn’t realised it, but seeing her friend had been what she’d needed today.

“I’ve really enjoyed today, it’s been lovely.”

“It has, we should do it more often. Whenever you have your lunch break you could pop in from time to time and I’m sure I’ll see you at St Mungo’s too.”

“I just might, you know… give Neville my love and I hope you both have a wonderful new year, Hannah.”

“Same to you, Hermione,” Hannah replied.

With that, Hermione disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a quick message to let you know that as I'm taking part in QLFC as well as writing gift fics for GGE 2021, at present I'm unable to devote time and attention to Just Breathe, so I've decided to put it on a short hiatus until September when I will be able to focus on it. I hope you all understand and I'll see you in September with Chapter 3 :)  
> If you enjoyed this, let me know what you thought by leaving a review.  
> I'll see you all soon,  
> S L Blake x

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh cliffhanger I know but everything will be explained in the next chapter, I promise ;)
> 
> The next instalment to the story shall be posted on Sunday 21st February.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, let me know what you thought by leaving a review.
> 
> I'll see you all soon,
> 
> S L Blake x


End file.
